


I Half Hope That You Know

by nononoya



Series: Haikyuu!! Drabbles [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Airports, Established Relationship, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Language, Timeskip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29685879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nononoya/pseuds/nononoya
Summary: Prompt: “Look, I don’t have much time, but I wanted to say I love you.”Osamu realizes he's in love with Suna Rintaro and decides to tell him.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: Haikyuu!! Drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114670
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	I Half Hope That You Know

Miya Osamu is typically considered the more reasonable of the Miya twins, a fact that means next to nothing when considering his brother’s unfortunate flair for the dramatic. Still, if you were to compare their abilities to think through their actions before actually _doing_ them, Atsumu certainly isn’t coming out on top. That being said, Osamu has his moments. And right now, driving to the airport on a Monday afternoon to see his boyfriend for all of 45 minutes, was definitely one of them. 

Osamu is already aware of the irrationality. He knows this is a stupid idea. He knows it’s impulsive. He knows it’s something his idiot brother would do in a heartbeat if he and that curly haired spiker weren’t already attached at the hip. The fact is though, Sunarin has been out of town for training for thirteen days, and he had an hour and ten minute layover before getting on another plane for a six day long press tour. Nineteen days in total, almost three weeks, without seeing him in person. 

Professional volleyball careers were killer for new relationships, and for Osamu’s sex life. 

New wasn’t really the right word. They’d been dating for five months now, following one of the most embarrassing confessions of Osamu’s life. Bottled up high school crushes popped open and spilled out over dinner. It all worked out in the end. But given Suna’s volleyball career and Osamu’s restaurant, the amount of time they’d actually gotten together wasn’t nearly enough. 

On weeks where Suna wasn’t out of town, they usually spent a few days apart. A healthy distance for a budding relationship, especially given their similar, independent personalities. But inevitably, some game, or press tour, or other professional athlete nonsense would come up and whisk his boyfriend away for some absurd amount of time, crushing any hope of developing some kind of routine. 

Osamu’s understanding of course. Frankly, he’s just as busy. His job just didn’t require weeklong trips around the country. Regardless though, they’d made it work. The last few months had been more wonderful than he knew how to describe. And yeah, nineteen days was a lot, far too long for Osamu’s taste, but that’s not what had sparked this impromptu trip to the airport.

Four days into this long distance mess, after a particularly long night at Onigiri Miya, Osamu was halfway through peeling off his sweaty clothes when his phone rang. He’d almost just sent it to voicemail, not wanting to wait any longer before collapsing into bed. But a familiar face flashed across the screen. 

“Rintaro?” 

“Osamu.”

His boyfriend’s tired voice swirled through his head, easing the tension in his shoulders, drawing a slight, tired smile. “Why are you still up? Don’t you have training early tomorrow?” 

“I wanted to talk to you, didn’t wanna call you at work,” Rintaro had sounded more exhausted than he felt. But that’s when it hit him, bubbling up in his stomach and threatening to spill out of his mouth and into the phone. _I’m in love with him._

They talked for only a few minutes before saying their goodnights, but it left Osamu giddier than he’d felt since high school.

He needed to tell someone, so he’d called Atsumu, which, in hindsight, was a terrible idea. The line rang four times; Osamu briefly considered just dropping it, but then the asshole actually picked up. 

“Yo,” 

“Atsumu, I need to tell you something,” 

“‘Samu it’s 1:30 in the morning,” his brother had groaned into the phone, “Can’t it wait?”

“You picked up the phone, dickhead” 

“Well yeah, I wanted to make sure you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere ya idiot,” 

Osamu had taken a deep breath, trying to convince himself that this wasn’t a mistake, “Will ya just listen to me for a minute?” 

“Why can’t you just tell Sunarin?” 

“It’s about him,” 

There was a brief pause from the other line, “Oh, did you break it off?” 

Osamu had rolled his eyes, as if he’d call Atsumu first if that’d happened. “No, you dumbass, nothing like that. I…” The next two words had gotten stuck in his throat. He was so certain, so absolutely sure of how he felt and now… Saying it out loud was terrifying, and saying it to Atsumu was a death sentence.

Without warning the other Miya started laughing through the phone, Osamu’s face quickly turning a reflexive red color, “Oh ‘samuuuuu, are you in loooove?” 

He’d hung up the phone after that, no reason to draw it out any longer. Also, fuck Atsumu. 

One week, dozens of phone calls, and a rather messy attempt at phone sex later he’d gotten a text from Suna. It was a screenshot of the man’s plane tickets and highlighted was the layover. 

Osamu’s fairly certain that both parties were aware of the absurdity of the plan. But neither of them saw any reason not to do it. Call it infatuation, call it a honeymoon phase, Osamu didn’t care, all he knew was that he was in love with Suna Rintaro, and he was going to tell him, in person, if it killed him. 

So here he was, searching for a parking spot at the fucking airport so he could see his boyfriend for all of 45 minutes. 

_Absolutely ridiculous_ , he thinks as he puts the car in park, _Atsumu is never going to find out about this_. 

He’s only a few paces away from his car when his phone rings, “Rin? You landed?” 

“We’re stuck at the gate. Plane ahead of us is still there.” 

It feels like a knife to the gut. “Okay… I guess I’ll… I’ll wait where we planned,” 

“Stay on the phone with me,” 

“Of course,” 

After Suna takes the time to tell Osamu about his flight, the pair falls into a comfortable silence, something they do often during phone calls. It was always just enough to know the other is there. 

Osamu makes his way into the airport and to the spot they’d agreed on. He checks his watch every thirty seconds, doing and then redoing the mental math of how much time he’d actually get with his boyfriend. It would take about ten minutes for Suna to get from the gate to where he was waiting. And he’d need fifteen minutes to get back through security and to the next gate. Of course, this was all math he’d done prior to this, time that had already been accounted for when they’d made this stupid plan in the first place. All he was really counting now was how much time he was losing. 18 minutes was the running total, but it was growing by the second. 

“Osamu quit biting your nails,” Suna says over the phone. His eyes go wide, pulling his hand from his mouth. His nervous tick: he hadn’t even realized he was doing it. 

“Sorry,” 

“How’s Kita? You saw him this morning, right?” 

The question is jarring, which was no doubt the intent. “Mhm. He’s good, gave me an extra bag of rice,” 

“Oh. Extra rice. Very exciting.” 

Osamu can’t help but smile at the man’s sarcastic tone, “Hey, you asked,” 

Suna chuckles. Osamu expects the call to lull back into silence but the man speaks again. “Hey ‘samu, do you remember that training camp our first year? When the bus broke down on our way back?” 

“I do. But I’d rather not.” Osamu says. It wasn’t a pleasant memory. They’d been stranded on the side of the road in the snow for forty five minutes. Not to mention he and Atsumu had been in the middle of some petty squabble. He couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was about. “Why?” 

“All sixteen of us freezing our asses off, absolutely miserable. And then Atsumu said something stupid, and you told him to fuck off, and before anyone could stop you, you two were trying to kill each other in the snow,” 

Osamu sighs deeply at the rather accurate recap. Nothing like the sting of fresh snow in an open wound. 

“When they finally managed to pull you two apart, your face was a mess.” 

“Hey, he started it,” Osamu says instinctively. 

Suna laughs, “Then coach told you to go stand by me, far away from Atsumu.”

“Didn’t want to have to call an ambulance too” 

His boyfriend laughs again, “Do you remember what you said when you walked over?” 

Osamu racks his brain, all he remembers was how fucking mad he’d been, and how much of it he’d taken it out on his brother’s stupid face. “No.” 

“You walked over, blood still dripping down your face and said, ‘That’s a stupid hat Sunarin’” 

The spiker feels himself flush red, embarrassment coursing through his veins, “I did not. Did I really?” 

“You did,” Suna says with a chuckle, “I told you it looked better than your face and you got all grumpy about it,” 

“Sounds like me,” he admits, running a hand through his hair.

“Mhm. But then a few minutes later you leaned over and said, in the softest voice, ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean that” 

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because ya jerk, that was the first time I knew I liked you,”

Osamu smiles, warmth spreading through his chest, “I can’t wait to see you Rin,” 

Instead of continuing to count the time he was losing, Osamu lets his mind wander. It drifts through the past few years, circling back to high school, circling back to the man on the other end of the phone. 

The first time he’d realized he liked Suna Rintaro was towards the beginning of their second year, when the boy had kissed his twin brother. 

It was a stupid argument, though definitely befitting the Miya twins. Thinking about it now makes Osamu go red with embarrassment. Atsumu was dating some girl that Osamu had dated in middle school and, according to Atsumu, she’d said that he was the better kisser. Osamu had nearly rolled his eyes into the back of his head when Atsumu had brought it up to him. He was clearly just trying to start shit. 

Osamu should’ve left it alone. 

Instead, of course, the spiker had responded with something along the lines of: “She’s comparing you now to me in middle school. Nobody is good at kissing in middle school,” and then, because he couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie, he’d thrown in, “If she kissed me now I’d definitely be better than you,” 

Obviously, it only escalated from there. 

Sunarin had caught wind of the argument at practice that afternoon and had promptly inserted himself into the drama. 

“I know how to solve this,” he’d declared, interrupting the roundabout squabbling they’d been engaged in all day. The twins had stared, unbelieving that anyone would go out of their way to put themselves in the middle of a Miya twins argument. Suna had gotten this absolutely devilish grin on his face before grabbing Atsumu by the cheeks and planting a kiss on his panicked lips. Osamu remembers watching with some mix of curiosity and horror. 

The setter had scrambled away, a mess of curse words tumbling from his mouth. And with barely any time to process Suna announced: “Osamu’s a better kisser!” 

“What?” Atsumu had yelled, still trying to wipe Suna’s mess off his face, “You didn’t even kiss him!” 

“Didn’t have to.” He’d thrown a wink in Osamu’s direction before seeing himself out of the conversation. 

The spiker had felt a soft blush spread across his face before bursting into laughter. Atsumu threw a volleyball at him seconds later. 

He’s considered letting Sunarin in on that little tidbit, but it’s probably best saved for when he’s a little less on edge.

A muffled announcement comes from the other side of the phone, drawing him from his thoughts. Osamu can’t quite make out the words, “Is that-” 

“We’re pulling into the gate now,” 

His heart rate picks up, jittery anxiety squirming through his muscles. He glances down at his watch, doing the math again. 14 minutes. It’ll have to do.

A light chatter comes from the phone before he hears Suna speak again, but not to him this time. “Hey Komori. I’m going to be the first one off this plane, can you do me a favor and take my bag to the next gate?” 

“Sure,” he hears the libero respond, “But where are you-” 

“Don’t worry about it. Hey ‘samu,” he says into the phone. 

“Hmm?” 

“I’m gonna kiss the hell out of you,” 

A few minutes later, Suna is off the plane, running through the airport to his boyfriend who is pacing nervously on the phone. He counts the minutes. At ten he can feel his palms get sweaty. At eleven he scans the crowd frantically. And at twelve he starts panic, “Where are-” 

“I’m here, where are you” 

Osamu looks around, almost desperately. His boyfriend was nowhere in sight. A sick feeling twists its way into his stomach. “At the bench, right before security, where you said,” 

“Which terminal?” 

“East. It was East right?” 

“Osamu,” 

_Fuck._

An anxious frustration washes over him. “No, no I triple checked. It was East, I swear it was,” 

“It’s West, Osamu,”

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

“But I…” He’d come so far, waited so fucking long. He’d been looking forward to this for days and he’d gone and fucked it all up. 

Suna sighs into the phone, “It’s only six more days, it’ll be alright,” 

“No, I…” Think Osamu. There has to be a way to fix this right? He has to know. Osamu has to tell him. He can’t wait a second longer. Then, without warning, an even stupider idea pops into his head. “Suna, stay where you are,” 

Before the man on the phone can protest, before he can do the math of how long they’ll actually have together, before any amount of logic actually kicks in, Osamu is sprinting through the airport on a Monday afternoon to see the man he loves. 

Strangers were jumping out of his way, a few had even shouted after him. Suna was calling him all sorts of names over the phone. All the while, that morning’s work out ached through his legs. God only knows how long he ran, but he follows the signs, one foot after the other. 

It would almost be a little romantic if it wasn’t so fucking ridiculous. 

Breathing heavy, he rounds a corner. “I see you,” Suna says, “Osamu!” he hears it from across the room before it echoes through the phone. And then he spots him, hair messy, wearing his official EJP jacket. That brief moment of eye contact would’ve made the whole thing worth it. But he hadn't come this far to stop there.

Despite his body’s protest he runs to Suna, who’s running to him, colliding in some kind of hug. Before he can say anything Suna pulls him in for a kiss. It’s warm and messy and wanting and god, Osamu missed him. 

“You’re such an idiot,” Suna says, pulling away, hands still glued to the shorter man’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he says between heavy breaths. 

Suna laughs and kisses him again. 

Osamu pulls away, taking the man’s hands in his own. _Just tell him. Tell him now._ “Rintaro I-” 

“Look, Komori texted me just a minute ago,” Suna interrupts, “I have to go, but I wanted to tell you that I love you,” 

Osamu stares at him, utterly floored, “I love you too.” It spills out so naturally it’s almost surprising.

Suna smiles and squeezes his boyfriend’s hands, “I’ll see you soon.” He kisses Osamu again before taking off back towards security. 

Osamu can only run a hand through his hair, still trying to catch his breath. All that work, all that mental preparation, that god awful conversation with his brother… He laughs out loud to himself. In the middle of the _fucking_ airport, on a Monday afternoon. 

_Suna Rintaro, I’m so entirely in love with you._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks all for reading :) 
> 
> Been wanting to write these two for a hot minute....
> 
> Title is from "Groceries" by Mallrat. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr (if you want) @ nononoya


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